What's Your Fantasy?
by trespresh
Summary: Stiles and Derek challenge one another: fantasy for dirty, sexy fantasy. Pure smut. Definitely rated for a reason. Derek's fantasy, take two!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay. I know I should have been working on 'Sing It Out', but this idea hit me like a brick and I couldn't say no. ****This is smut. Shameless, unadulterated, deliciously slashy smut. You have been warned. **

**This is going to be another collection, similar to 'Sing It Out', but without the songs. I hope you guys dig it! :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Sad day.**

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><p>He really shouldn't be here.<p>

All he could think of while he idly stirred the drink in front of him was that _something_ would go wrong. Things already weren't going the way he'd planned, if the drunken old man that had been pawing at him earlier was anything to go by. He should really just finish this drink—was this his third or fourth?—and go home. Drinking alone at a bar? What would his dad think?

Stiles smiled to himself at the thought and took another sip.

"What's so amusing?"

He looked over to eye the dark haired man that had sunk into the stool next to his. "Just thinking about what my father would say if he saw me now."

The man turned his head forward so Stiles could only see his profile as he took a long drink from his own glass. The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I can't think he'd be too happy. You hardly look old enough to be in here."

Stiles chuckled, "Between you and me," he leaned close, "I'm not. I'm eighteen."

The other man glanced at him and offered a raised eyebrow.

"Okay fine. I'm seventeen."

His bar mate snorted and threw back the rest of his drink, face twisting. "Alright. Jailbait. I can get behind that."

Stiles hummed into his own glass, downing what was left before licking at an ice cube at the bottom. He could feel the other's eyes on him, see his Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed, and Stiles couldn't help but love the attention. He sucked a cube into his mouth before taking it from his lips and gliding it across his collarbone, just to see how far he could take this.

"It's hot in here. Are you hot?" He simpered, enjoying the man's eyes on him.

The other licked his lips distractedly, eyes set on the icy water trailing down Stiles' v-neck. "Mmm, yeah. Hot."

Stiles smirked and gestured for another drink from the bartender.

"D'you, uh," the man cleared his throat, "d'you want to get out of here?"

The younger man reached for the new drink placed in front of him and sipped at it thoughtfully. "Ya know, I can't. I've got a boyfriend."

The man grinned, showing perfect, white teeth, and leaned in. "You tease," he said, a predatory lilt in his voice. "Boyfriend, huh? What's his name?"

The side of Stiles' lip lifted up. "Derek."

"And _Derek_ let you come here all by your lonesome?"

"He doesn't know. Not the brightest guy in the world, ya know?"

The other man's eyes narrowed, despite his small smile. He leaned just a little bit closer. "Must not be, to let something delicious as you out of his sight."

Stiles tapped his fingers against his glass and bit at his lip. "He hasn't been paying much attention to me lately. He's got, uh…other things to worry about right now. Something about the full moon, or whatever."

"Huh. Guy's an idiot," the man snorted, smirk back in place.

Stiles pushed his glass away. He didn't feel much like drinking anymore.

"Come on," the darker man, suddenly very close, murmured in Stiles' ear, "Come with me. I'll make you feel _real _special."

Stiles took one last look around the bar before reaching into his pocket, fishing out money before the man tutted and laid down more than enough.

"I got it," he told Stiles with a wink.

And hey, what the hell. Stiles stood up, took the man's offered hand, and they left the bar.

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><p>"Let me go turn a light on," Stiles said in a small voice, stepping into his own dark house. The door shut behind him.<p>

Stiles let out a small gasp as he was pushed against the wall roughly, the man's hands firm on his hips.

"Why?" The other whispered in his ear, teeth closing around his earlobe.

Stiles didn't answer. His breath hitched and—he _really_ didn't mean to hike his leg up around the taller's waist like that. He felt rather than heard a low chuckle against his neck before a strong hand came up to rest under his thigh, thumb rubbing small circles into his jean-clad skin. The smaller man's jaw fell open, and he just let himself _feel_. The soft lips pressing lightly on his neck, the scratch of stubble.

But he really shouldn't be here right now.

"Listen, hey," he began, "my boyfriend—_oh._"

A harsh nip behind his ear cut him off and his eyes slipped closed.

"If you were really concerned about _him_, you wouldn't be here right now."

And Stiles tightened his leg around the man's hips. He brought his hand up, fingering the hem of the man's shirt. He took a shallow breath and lifted it over the other's head to toss it aside, and the man's lips were on his instantly. Their tongues met feverishly and Stiles couldn't help the way his stomach flipped. The taller man's hand fell to the back of Stiles' other thigh, patting it, and Stiles hopped up just enough to wrap both legs around the man's waist, arms secured around his neck to play idly with the hairs on the nape of his partner's neck.

And then he was being carried upstairs, the man's heady scent thick in his throat, filling his senses until all he could think of was _oh, god, now please._

The two fell onto Stiles' bed, and the younger groaned and pulled his lips away.

"_You don't know where my bedroom is,_" he muttered pointedly, and he felt the man grin against his lips and hum in response.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something else, but then the man placed a peck on the underside of his jaw before trailing lower. Lips brushed the hollow of his throat while fingers pushed his shirt up, and all Stiles could do was sit up to acquiesce the clothing's removal.

That sinful mouth was back again, tongue circling one nipple and then the other before heading lower to dip into his navel. Stiles buried his fingers into the dark hair, sucked his lip into his mouth in anticipation, and then the tongue was flat against the edge of his jeans. He tugged lightly on the other's hair, urging him on with a small moan.

He hadn't blinked twice before his jeans and boxers were around his ankles and that very same tongue was licking a thick stripe up the underside of his cock.

Had Stiles been even remotely coherent, he'd have been thoroughly proud with the long list of expletives falling from his lips. The man grinned up at him through the adjusting darkness and their eyes met.

Stiles' stomach did that stupid flipping thing again.

"Come on, come on," the smaller man pleaded, fingers pulling hard on the dark hair again. He attempted to lift his hips to the other's mouth once more, to no avail, and a frustrated whine burst from him, "Now who's the tease? Come _on._"

"Bossy little slut, aren't we?" The man's voice held a hint of dark amusement but his mouth lowered to engulf Stiles' cock anyway.

"Nngh, you h-haven't seen bossy yet," was all Stiles managed before his eyes closed and the man really set to work on his length.

Stiles groaned, all consonants and shapeless mumbles, feeling the breaths the man made through his nose against his skin, but _he would not lose it. _

Not yet, at least.

As if reading the younger's mind, the dark haired man lifted off of Stiles' cock, smiling at the boy's whimper of loss. He leaned across the teen's body to open the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, digging around inside before pulling out a small bottle.

Stiles snapped open his eyes and he glared at the man. "You _don't know_ where I keep my lube, either."

The taller only rolled his eyes. This was taking way too long.

Stiles watched as he yanked off his jeans and boxers, and nudged the highschooler's knees apart. He brought his fingers up to the boy's lips, commanding, "Suck."

"What? Why? You've got the lube right there."

The man's eyes darkened and his voice dropped an octave, husky as though he'd swallowed gravel. "I _said, _suck."

Stiles very nearly came.

He opened his mouth just enough for the other to slip his fingers inside, and Stiles wrapped his tongue around the digits, holding the other's heated gaze, and damned if he didn't pout when the fingers were pulled away. The man hitched Stiles' leg up to rest in the crook of his elbow and leaned down to slip a finger past that tight ring of muscle. The boy inhaled through his nose, reveling in the strange, slightly uncomfortable feeling. It had been but a moment before a second finger was added and Stiles breathed out a whine. He rolled his hips impatiently because yeah, preparation was great and all but he was so _over_ all of this. He laced his fingers into the man's hair again.

"Ungh, just fuck me, goddamnit. _Now._"

The man laughed darkly. "_There's _that bossiness you promised me."

The elder had Stiles' legs over his shoulders before he could blink, and pushed in with one smooth thrust. He wasted no time in letting the boy adjust, because _fuckhewassotight_ and he _had_ asked for it, so a furious pace was set.

Stiles curled his fingers into the man's biceps and rocked his hips up to meet every thrust with a loud _slap_, curse after moan after hitched breath filling the dark room. He tossed his head from side to side, entire body writhing when the man found his prostate.

"Oh _fuck, _fuuuck, right there! Nngh, oh god!"

The man's lip curled possessively, leaning forward to lick Stiles' bottom lip before taking it between his teeth and pulling, snapping his hips forward with enough vigor to slam the headboard into the wall.

"_Scream for me,_" he commanded, licking Stiles' teeth when the boy's jaw dropped to oblige.

The man laid one forearm across Stiles' collarbone, succeeding in pinning him thoroughly, and a feral growl ripped from his throat. And fuck if that wasn't the sexiest thing Stiles had ever heard. He rolled his eyes up and wondered if it was possible for the man to rip a hole through his inner walls. Not that he'd complain.

The older man traced the shell of Stiles' ear with his tongue, down across his jaw and neck to land just above the boy's nipple, where he bit down and smirked at the immediate bruising. He could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath his tongue, each increasingly desperate noise the boy made ringing in his ears, and refused the urge to draw blood. He was not going to lose it. He was _not_ going to lose it.

And then Stiles flipped them.

He kneeled over the taken aback man, reached down to grasp the other's pulsing cock and sinking down on it until their hips met once more. He rocked his hips with ease, rolling his body into perfect curves and throwing his head back, mouth open in a drawn-out moan. His hands rested heavily on the man's chest to keep his leverage, and his face twisted as the man's thrusts upward bounced his body.

This was just too much.

Stiles' movements jerked and staggered, indicating the impending oblivion, and he dragged the other man's hand to his cock. With his partner's fist flying over his length, Stiles didn't stand a chance. His eyes screwed shut and his jaw dropped in a silent scream as he came, white hot heat shooting through his body and he _couldn't fucking catch his breath. _He collapsed against the man's chest, clenching his muscles while the other thrust one time, two times, three times more before releasing into the younger body as well.

Sharp gasps, twitching muscles, a few more shallow thrusts and Stiles whimpered from over-stimulation. He rose delicately off of the other man and fell onto the bed beside him. Chests heaved, slick with sweat, and Stiles choked out a laugh while glancing over at his bedmate.

"Hey, man, my boyfriend's gonna be home soon, so you should probably—"

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek laughed, eyes flickering over to the younger man as he laid an arm out in offering.

The highschooler grinned and took the opportunity to curl into the lycan's side. "Was I right, or was I right?"

Derek raised his eyebrow in question.

"Didn't I say the whole 'bring home a total stranger' fantasy would be ridiculously hot?"

The older man smirked, too tired to deny.

"_Derek._"

"Yes Stiles, yes, _God_, you were so right."

The smaller man's grin widened. "We should do this more often."

When the wolf simply shrugged noncommittally and didn't answer, Stiles sat up on his elbow to look down at him. "Oh come on. How can you say no to someone _so delicious _as me?"

And Derek outright laughed. "Never mention that. Ever again."

"Only if we can do this more often."

No answer.

"Come on, Derek. I will match you fantasy for fantasy. Deal?"

And how could anyone say no to a proposition like that?

"Fine," Derek agreed, smirking at Stiles' exclamation of victory, "but it's my turn next."

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><p><strong>Okay, Tyler Hoechlin tweeted just as I was finishing up this story. I blushed - actually <em>blushed<em> - because of what I've done to his character. **

**Sorry, Tyler. Sorry, Dylan. **

**HOWEVER, I'm not sorry to you guys, haha! I hope you liked it - reviews are still my motivation. The more people seem to like my stuff, the more I'll post. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I can't even believe how well the first chapter of this story was received. You guys rule so hard, thankyouthankyouthankyou!**

**Thank you, also, to my wonderful new beta, MsPunkRock. I'm so happy to share the process with you. :)**

**Disclaimer: Teen Wolf does not belong to me, but Tyler Hoechlin _is_ in my kitchen making popcorn for the finale. Oh wait, no, that's not right...**

**So here it is: Derek's fantasy! Enjoy!**

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><p>School was the last place Stiles wanted to be right now. The teacher was droning on about Chemistry (or was he in Algebra?), his ass <em>still <em>hurt like hell from his 'stranger' fantasy on Saturday (damn, Derek), and to top it all off, he was fighting off a persistent hard-on just _thinking_ about what the older man would have planned for their next rendezvous (double damn, Derek).

No matter how hard he had begged—and he'd done the best _begging_ of his life—Derek would not tell him what his fantasy was, much less when it would be carried out. Not even a little hint. And Stiles was going fucking insane.

He pulled his backpack strategically into his lap and imagined handcuffs, whips and chains. A leash and collar, because Derek seemed like he might be that kind of guy. He imagined positions found only in the _Kama Sutra_, Derek's hands on him, rubbing, slapping, pushing, and creating pleasure that made Stiles want to cry out.

And, okay. He needed to get out of class. Right now.

"Dude. _Dude."_

Stiles looked over, his cheeks flushed and his breath shallow, and answered in a whisper, "W-what?"

Scott looked a mix between disgusted, confused, and deeply amused. "Calm the fuck down."

"What…what are you talking about?"

"Advanced smell; it's grossing me out, dude. Go take care of it."

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. "Minor detail, there, buddy. _I can't move,_" he hissed.

Scott's reply was cut off by a kid walking into the classroom, handing the teacher a pass, and scurrying out of the room. Stiles was mildly curious as to why the kid had seemed scared shitless, but it was put out of his head as the teacher looked up and directly at him.

"The principal wants to see you, Mr. Stilinski."

_Nonono, oh fuck._

Scott had his head down on his desk, shoulders shaking in obvious laughter, and Stiles sincerely wanted to hit him. He took a deep breath and stood, backpack still positioned almost casually in front of him, and made his way out into the hall.

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><p>The main office was eerily quiet. No ringing phones, no secretaries…nothing. Not a stitch of movement. Stiles considered turning tail and running, because this was not right, but instead he crossed the room to a smaller office off to the side. He hadn't even raised his hand to knock before a quiet command sounded from behind the closed door.<p>

"Come in."

_What the fuck?_ Stiles didn't move.

"I said, _come in_, Stilinski."

And oh shit. He knew that voice. He swung the door open.

"The fuck are you doing here, Derek?"

The lycan raised an eyebrow from where he sat behind the desk. "Excuse me? Is that any way to speak to your principal?"

"I don't know. My principal isn't here."

"You cheeky little—" Derek stood up.

"Where is everybody? Oh god, you didn't kill them, did you?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking drama queen. I didn't kill anybody. I just…convinced them to take the rest of the day off."

Stiles watched him warily. "You…_convinced_ them. But how—"

The older man had him pinned to the wall before Stiles could finish his thought. "No more questions. Understood?"

Stiles blinked up at him and sighed. "Fine, Derek."

The taller man raised his eyebrow dangerously, glowering down at him.

"Uh, fine…Mr. Hale?"

Stiles ran his suddenly dry tongue across his lips when Derek's eyes flashed to that scalding blue. He flushed; the wolf was _seriously_ going to make him do this.

"Yes, sir," Stiles breathed out, ignoring Derek's smirk of approval before he added, "kinky bastard."

And then he was bent over the desk, his cheek pressed against the hard mahogany and Derek's hand centered on his back. Stiles heard the clean sound of ripping, teeth grinding as his shirt was yanked off of him.

"_Are you serious?_" Stiles sputtered, turning his head to glare wide-eyed at the man above him, "How the fuck am I supposed to go back to class without a fucking shirt, _Derek_?"

The breath was knocked out of him when Derek's hand fell sharply across his ass, and Stiles pressed his forehead against the cool desk, gasping. Derek aligned their bodies perfectly as he leaned over the boy's back to lick at his neck.

"Who says you're going back to class?"

And then he rolled his hips and Stiles saw stars, panting because this was so, so hot and wrong and _nnngh_ they shouldn't be doing this. He rolled his own hips back in time to feel Derek's hard cock through his jeans and with a whimper, clutched the sides of the desk until his knuckles turned white.

By now, Stiles was so hard it was painful. They needed to get this show on the road.

"_Derek_."

He was rewarded with another slap on his ass that shouldn't have been as arousing as it was, and he choked against the tingle that ran up his spine, arching his back into Derek's palm and chewing on his own tongue.

"S-sorry, _sir_."

The wolf's low chuckle filled the room and bounced around inside Stiles' skull. He stared intently at the dark wood, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Derek slowly hooked one thumb beneath the highschooler's jeans, past the waistband of his boxers, while the other hand expertly reached around to unbutton, caress, unzip, and tuck his hand inside to wrap around Stiles' length.

At which Stiles certainly did not scream out.

A few lazy strokes had the kid gasping and wheezing, and Derek smiled to himself. This was just too fucking easy. He pulled his hand away, smile widening at Stiles' mewl of loss, in favor of yanking down the offending clothing to let them pool at the kid's ankles.

There was a dull _thunk_ and he turned his head over his shoulder, staring bug-eyed, because why was Derek kneeling behind him? The wolf's hands trailed up the backs of his thighs, coming up to rest gently on his ass, and Stiles heart beat just a little bit faster. He wasn't serious—?

But then he felt the other's warm breath against his skin, fingers spreading him apart, and Stiles was just about to ask what Derek was doing when he felt that familiar tongue flat against his entrance, prodding and swirling and wonderful. And _holyshit_ he couldn't see straight. The most embarrassing yelps and cries fell thoughtlessly from his lips because where the hell had Derek learned to do _that_ with his tongue?

"You've been bad, haven't you, Stilinski?"

The boy writhed and whined underneath his touch, "Yes, oh_, _fuuuck, so fucking _bad_!"

And then Derek pushed in two digits, lapping at the puckered skin that was stretched around his scissored fingers.

Stiles couldn't breathe. _He couldn't fucking breathe. _Derek was actually trying to kill him.

With his eyes closed, Stiles couldn't see one of Derek's hands trail up and over the desk, pressing a small button on a microphone in the corner to record and project every soft whimper, every single desperate sob.

With his thoughts distracted, Stiles couldn't realize that every student and teacher in the entire school was hearing him beg for Derek to just fuck him already.

Now the fun would begin.

Derek stood quickly, shedding shirt, jeans, and boxers, and lined himself up. He leaned over the boy's body again, nipped at Stiles' pulsing jugular.

"What do you want?" He whispered, voice husky and low in Stiles' ear, finger still pressing the loudspeaker button.

"You, God, please, just fuck me," the boy groaned in return, voice thoroughly wrecked.

Derek pushed just the head of his cock in, hand wrapped around Stiles' shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck you _how_?"

"Hard, please, so hard, s-sir!"

And who was Derek to refuse to a plea like that? He slammed his hips roughly to the willing body below him, not allowing Stiles a moment to adjust because he knew the lacrosse player neither needed it nor wanted it. The wolf pounded furiously, growling and groaning and this was _such_ a good idea.

There was no way Stiles was going to last long. He was doing his best to hold on as it was, but he was too far gone. The sounds tearing from his throat were jumbled, screams and pleas with no definitive structure; he couldn't even remember which muscles to use to form words, and—oh _god, _what was his name again?

Derek's hips crashed forward, growing erratic and all the more desperate to bring them both to the edge, Stiles' frenzied chanting echoed in his own moans. He leaned over the body beneath him once more to bite the younger man's shoulder blade, hips faltering, and he finally ground out a final, muffled groan as he shuddered through his orgasm.

And he loved the way Stiles came right after with a loud cry, just from the feeling of being filled even more.

They panted, chests heaving and muscles fluttering from the aftershocks. Derek lifted his finger off of the microphone button with a small smile. He pulled from the smaller body gently.

"Stiles?"

The kid laid his cheek against the cool desk, eyes closed, and hummed in acknowledgement.

"You okay?"

"Mmm, very. 'M great. Never would've pegged you for a 'public place' kind of guy," he murmured, opening his eyes to glance back at Derek with a sated grin that the wolf returned, inwardly laughing because Stiles truly didn't know just how 'public' they were.

A dull knocking sound and angry yells were heard from outside the main office; Derek stiffened and hastily began to pull on his jeans.

"I hate to cut the afterglow short, seriously, but we really need to go," Derek told Stiles softly, punctuating his words with a lick to the small of the boy's back.

Stiles stood as well, bending to yank up his own clothing, his eyes wide with paranoia as he took in the muffled noises from the hallway. "What's going on out there?"

Derek eyed him with a smirk, "Probably a few teachers trying to get in... see what was going on in _here._"

"_What_? But how did they—"

"Here," the wolf cut him off and handed Stiles his own shirt, "put this on. We have to get out of here."

And he walked to the window and jerked it open while Stiles stared at him. "Derek?"

"Come on, let's _go_. They won't be slowed down by a locked door for long."

And Stiles followed him out the window.

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><p>Derek hadn't driven but two miles from the school before Stiles' phone buzzed with a new text.<p>

**Dude. Not what I meant when I said to go take care of it.**

Stiles stared down at the screen, face red. "I think Scott heard us."

"Uh, everyone heard us," Derek chuckled.

The younger's head jerked over to gape at the wolf. "_What?_"

The toothy grin on the older man's face was unnerving, to say the least. He shrugged nonchalantly, "You're Beacon Hills' newest porn star."

"I… but, but, what did you—?"

"Loudspeakers," Derek said almost conversationally. Stiles made a small noise in the back of his throat and dropped his head into his hands.

"Oh, god. I hate you so much."

"No, you don't. Relax, no one even knows it was us. Well," he paused, "except for Scott. Who'll probably tell Allison. And girls talk, ya know, so I'm sure Lydia will find out. And Jackson." Another pause. "But besides them…"

Stiles lifted his head to look at the lycan, his eyes blazing with disbelief and embarrassment despite his small smile. "Oh my god. I'm so getting you back for that."

And Derek couldn't help but be just a little bit excited.

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><p><strong>Oh, that Derek. I seriously wish that shit went down at <em>my<em> school.. ;) Review, pretty please! **

**I hope you all enjoy the finale! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'M SORRY FOR THE WAIT (this chapter is longer than the others, to make it up to you lovely readers). Did it feel as long for you guys as it did for me? Busiest week of my summer, and it's only going to get worse, so forgive me if it's another long wait. I hope this one was worth it, though! ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sexy DO'B dream I had last night. Wait, what?**

**Stiles' second fantasy, in 3...2...1...**

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><p>So school wasn't the worst place in the world. In fact, looking around the halls today, Stiles felt positively invincible. He owned this place; he was no less than the king of the school. He felt fucking <em>sexy<em> and just a little naughty pulling into the parking lot this morning, and when he'd passed the main office, he'd fallen into an easy strut and a smug smirk had settled onto his face.

He was born to be a sex god.

…Okay, maybe that was pushing it. But _damn_, did he feel great. If he could get away with fucking Derek in the principal's office for everyone to hear, he could get away with anything.

Anything, indeed.

He was sitting in the lunch room with Scott (who talked with him as per usual but wouldn't meet his eye) when they approached him.

"Hey Scott. And _hello, _Stiles."

Stiles turned his head to look at his best friend, exasperated sigh escaping his mouth. "_Dude_. Why did you have to tell them?"

Scott smiled sheepishly, "I, uh…I have to go." He picked up his tray and practically ran from the cafeteria.

Allison and Lydia sat down on either side of the remaining boy.

"So that was quite the…_show_ you put on yesterday," Allison started conversationally.

Stiles licked his teeth and kept his eyes on his food.

"We want in."

He choked and jerked his head up to stare at Lydia, gaping at her words. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, shut up, not like _in_-in. We want front row seats." She was staring him down with that wide-eyed, pursed-lipped way of hers, and Stiles felt remarkably like a cornered animal, shaking in the hungry gaze of a predator. Far less invincible.

"It's just," his head swiveled over to stare at Allison as she spoke up, "the administration told us that someone broke into the principal's office and played a 'pornographic film' right next to the microphone. Everyone else believed them, Stiles. That's how good you guys were."

Stiles sat back in his chair to gawk, slack-jawed, at both of them. "You guys can't be serious."

Lydia smacked her lips. "As a heart attack, babe."

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on, Stilinski. It's not like you're scared of exhibitionism. You've proved that much."

He decided not to point out that he'd had no say in the 'loudspeaker' incident. "I'm not scared of being watched. I'm just fucking terrified of how Derek will react when I ask."

"So don't ask."

"What, just spring it on him?"

Lydia nodded, looking impossibly smug, and underneath the overwhelming inkling that he was putting the last nail in his coffin, Stiles shivered at the spark of excitement crawling up his spine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his fork, acquiescing smirk twisting his lips. "So how are we going to do this?"

The girls leered, leaning forward to plan.

When Stiles pushed his way through the front doors at the end of the day, Derek was there, leaning against his Camaro and looking absurdly sexy. Stiles licked his lips.

"God, you look hot," he muttered, seeing Derek smirk even from across the parking lot.

He tightened his grip on his backpack strap and started forward. Operation 'Distraction' was officially underway. He fell into the passenger seat while Derek slid behind the wheel and tore out of the lot.

"My house," Stiles demanded, ignoring Derek's cocked eyebrow and small smirk. He threw his bag into the backseat and leaned over to nip under the wolf's jaw, running his hand up the inside of his thigh, "I've been thinking about the principal's office all day, _sir_."

Stiles' mouth was on his collarbone, now, and Derek really liked where this was going.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, _yeah_. You, behind that desk. Your body. Your _tongue_."

Stiles' hand rested across Derek's belt. The older's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Sounds like you weren't paying attention in class, Stilinski," Derek breathed, only to feel Stiles grin against his neck.

"Oh, no. Not—" his nimble fingers pulled the belt open, "—one—" the button was popped, the zipper tugged down, "—_bit_—" his fist closed around Derek's length.

Stiles watched the muscles in the wolf's jaw twitch, saw his eyelids flutter in attempt to stay focused on the road. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

All because of—and for—him. And fuck if Stiles didn't take pride in that.

He pumped his hand slowly, flicking his thumb over the head with a lazy calm he didn't really feel. He was anxious. He needed Derek so far gone that he wouldn't say no to anything, and that shit called for the big guns.

Stiles sat back long enough to click his seatbelt free and rearrange himself, and dove forward to catch the head of Derek's cock between his lips. He felt Derek's hand on the back of his neck almost immediately.

"If you make me crash my Camaro, S-Stiles…" Derek's half-assed implied threat made Stiles roll his eyes. He waved his hand dismissively because _Derek just stuttered his name,_ and hummed around the heavy weight on his tongue.

Derek's hips lifted off the seat ever so slightly. Stiles gagged, paused to try to relax his throat, and allowed the lycan to push him down even further until there was nothing left to take. He swallowed around the length, listening to the sharp intakes of breath that filled the quiet cab, and sucked back up to hollow his cheeks around the tip. He loved each sound that fell unbidden from the older man's mouth, every growl that bubbled up from deep within his chest to mix flawlessly with the hominine moans. He loved the flavor of Derek; the subtle piney taste combined with the raw virility that Derek exuded made his eyes cross and his hips jerk of their own accord.

Stiles may not have been born to be a sex god, but he sure fucking _lived_ for Derek's cock.

They had pulled into the Stilinski driveway before long, Derek throwing the car into 'park' and dropping his other hand down to hold the kid's head steady while he jerked his hips up relentlessly into the waiting mouth. He slammed his head back against the seat, eyes rolled toward the ceiling, and had he looked up at the house, he'd have seen the two feminine faces watching intently from Stiles' bedroom window.

Stiles could always tell when Derek was close. His hips lurched frantically, the muscles in his stomach jumped and twitched. Stiles pushed at the other's thigh insistently, pulling off the stiff length with an unattractive _pop_, and heaved a breath.

"Stiles, Stiles please, _fuck_, I'm so fucking…—"

And he'd never heard Derek beg before. He was almost tempted to finish of the wolf now, just to maybe hear him beg some more.

But who could give in, in the face of sweet, sweet revenge?

Stiles surged forward to press his swollen lips to Derek's, breathing a soft whine when the other's hand curled around the back of his head, and let the kiss deepen. He inwardly laughed at Derek's probable egotistical thrill at tasting himself in the boy's mouth, but let it slide to instead flick his tongue across the slightly sharpened teeth.

"Come on," he muttered lowly, voice hoarse, before rolling away and opening the passenger door, "inside."

And Derek would've followed him into Kate Argent's torture chamber if it meant he'd get to feel that mouth on him again. He stumbled out of the car, following Stiles up the walkway and into the darkened house.

Stiles' back met the wall like it was fucking _meant_ to be there. That familiar mouth was on his again, hands gripping his hips.

Stiles was a livewire. In hindsight, that really should have been Derek's first clue. The kid's hands were everywhere, scratching down his back and weaving through his hair, his lips and tongue dancing in a frenzy that the wolf had never seen before. The younger man was practically vibrating, and Derek couldn't wait to fuck him blind.

Needless to say, Operation 'Distraction' was a success. By the way the taller man was rolling his hips, grinding their bodies together, Stiles could tell he'd agree to anything. The game was won, and the wolf hadn't even known they'd been playing.

Meet your maker, Derek Hale.

They barely made their way up the stairs, lips never separating, and crashed through Stiles' bedroom door. Derek held the smaller man's hands lazily above his head and ducked to bite at his neck, feeling like nothing could stop him when he felt the blood pulsing under the skin.

And then there was a dainty '_ahem_' from behind them.

Stiles was pretty sure he'd never seen Derek move that fast. One moment, the lycan's teeth were scraping against his neck, the next, Derek was crouched in front of him protectively, those same teeth bared at the intruders. He straightened up after he recognized the two girls.

"Derek," Stiles announced, "you're looking at my second fantasy."

The older man's face scrunched in confusion. "_Ew._ Orgies are not an option."

Stiles' arms wrapped around his waist from behind, fingers dipping easily below Derek's beltline. "They're just going to _watch_."

"No."

"But, Derek—"

"_No._"

"But it's your own damn fault! Everyone at school literally thinks I'm a porn star because of your little stunt yesterday!"

"Stiles, they can't watch. That's fucking weird. That's like you going to Scott's and asking to watch him and Allison."

"Okay, first off," Lydia interjected, "stop talking about us like we're not here. Second off, drop your little modest act, Hale, you're not fooling anyone."

She matched Derek's furious glare, completely unfazed. Stiles and Allison kept quiet, letting the two fiery personalities go head-to-head. Stiles rubbed small circles into the wolf's lower stomach with his thumb and rutted his hips a little, demonstrating the possibilities.

_Come on, Derek. Come on._

"And besides," the small girl continued, "I have no problem with watching two hot guys go at it in front of me."

A second of silence, and Stiles grinned, "Aw, Lydia. You think I'm hot?"

Three pairs of irritated eyes turned on him. He shrugged, nonchalantly pushing hand further down the front of Derek's jeans. He scraped his nails lightly over the base of Derek's cock, eliciting a quiet, breathy moan from the taller man.

"Come on, Derek," he muttered into the other's ear, ignoring the curious glances of the two girls, "don't you want to show them how loud you can make me scream?"

And he bit down on the nape of the wolf's neck at the same time he squeezed his cock, and Derek was done for. Stiles hadn't even realized he'd been moved when he found himself on his back on the bed, a shirtless Derek straddling his hips.

And yeah. Stiles liked it when Derek moved fast.

On one hand, Derek wanted to fuck the kid so hard he wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a week, as a punishment for pulling this one on him. On the other hand, however, he wanted to show these girls exactly what he saw whenever the clothes came off; he wanted them to see how _perfect_ Stiles looked when his back arched off the bed, his mouth stretched wide in pleasure, and the way his eyes would cross just slightly when Derek hit that _holyfucksogood_ spot inside the smaller body. How he would clutch desperately at Derek's forearms, nails leaving marks that Derek wished wouldn't heal, and how he seemed to lose control of the muscles in his face as they twitched and pulled at his features. He wanted the girls to hear each needy plea and soft whimper. He wanted them to hear Stiles scream his name.

He would dangle the boy in front of them, only to pull him out of reach and growl possessively and never, ever share.

Derek leaned over to grab the lube from the bedside drawer while Stiles yanked off his own shirt. They had no time to spare, not with the way Stiles was sprawled beneath him and rocking his hips up against his own. Derek made quick work of their jeans and boxers, stroking Stiles' length while leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to those still-swollen lips.

The smaller man hummed, raising his hips off of the bed and into the tight fist. "Just do it."

Derek coated his fingers and settled back between the spread legs to slip two into the tight body, nipping at the inside of Stiles' thigh. He crooked one finger, brushing over the small, oversensitive bundle of nerves, and grinned when the kid whined in the back of his throat.

"_More_."

A third finger.

"Fucking—Derek, _fuuuck,_ _more._"

Derek could hear four heartbeats. Stiles', the one he was most in-tune with, the clearest. Allison's and Lydia's, both of whose were pulsing away rapidly across the room, their heavy breathing also echoing inside his head. And his own; he could feel the blood throbbing in his ears, could practically taste the raw _need_ on the back of his tongue.

Stiles' legs wound around his waist, ankles crossed at the small of Derek's back. The lycan leaned forward, thanking God that the kid was flexible as he practically bent him in half. He pulled on Stiles' lower lip with his teeth and swallowed the boy's moan as he pushed in. When their hips met, Derek stilled, clenching his teeth against the feel of Stiles' writhing body underneath him.

"Fuck, fucking—_move_," Stiles demanded, hips rocking in an attempt to fuck himself on the older man's cock, but the firm grasp on his waist held him down.

Derek ignored him. He rested his forehead in the curve of Stiles' neck and turned his eyes to the two wide-eyed girls in the corner. His hand wrapped around the smaller man's cock, stroking once, twice.

"Isn't he beautiful?" He murmured, voice carrying in the quiet room. Stiles arched into Derek's touch and whimpered at that precise moment, punctuating his question perfectly.

He truly wanted to laugh at the twin blushes that painted the girls' faces, loved the way their eyes raked over the boy that they could never have.

And then, not waiting for an answer, Derek pulled back and thrust in again, earning an appreciative hum from Stiles. The wolf rolled his hips expertly, angled perfectly to press against the boy's prostate with every other thrust; Stiles muttered nonsensical phrases and tightened his legs around his waist, heels digging into his back encouragingly while his nails grappled at the toned chest.

Derek lifted his head to the boy's ear. "Show them how beautiful you are," he growled huskily, stubble rubbing the skin raw.

Well. Stiles was nothing if not a performer.

He threw his head back, pushing into the pillows, revealing the long, pale column of his neck. His back raised off the bed once more, spine curling into a desirable curve, and the way his hips jerked up to meet Derek thrust for thrust had the wolf grinding his teeth around groans, fingers gripping hips hard enough to bruise.

It was Allison who felt the dull pang of intrusion in her stomach, first. Like they shouldn't be watching this. Like this was an extremely intimate moment that they certainly should not be present for. She forced herself uncross her legs and made to get up from her chair and make a stealthy exit, but Lydia's hand on her arm pushed her back into the seat.

"You're _not_ leaving yet," she muttered conversationally, eyes never leaving the writhing couple on the bed.

Allison settled back into her chair, turning her gaze back to the guys as well. "Don't you feel like we're seriously invading their privacy?" She whispered back.

"Of course I do," Lydia breathed, "now be quiet."

Derek turned his head to them, eyes unfocused, and managed to twist his lips into a smirk. He could feel the familiar heat pooling in his stomach, his entire body hotwired to every single move and noise Stiles made. His senses were overwhelmed, his hips driving forward of their own accord. He could feel it all building up higher and higher and it was all he could do to pry his fingers from Stiles' hip, drag them over the taut stomach and wrap them around the boy's painfully hard length to stroke in time to his increasingly frantic thrusts.

And then Stiles seized up, mouthing Derek's name wordlessly, muscles clenching, and it was all closing in on Derek. He cried out, ducking to close his teeth around the kid's slick collarbone as he came. He thrust shallowly a few more times, riding the high, before becoming hyperaware of each breath the two girls took, every movement they made. He wanted them gone.

He rubbed his thumb in a circle on Stiles' hip, resting his head against his shoulder, and pulled out. He collapsed onto the bed and smiled when the kid curled into his side. They both let out contented sighs.

"I, uh…" Allison spoke up softly, afraid to ruin the sudden silence, as she raised up off of her chair. "I need to go find Scott."

Stiles cracked an eye open and offered a sated smile. "See you guys at school tomorrow."

Allison smiled back, and then she was out the door, Lydia on her heels with her phone already up to her ear.

"Jackson? I'm coming over. You better be on your bed, naked, in fifteen minutes," was the only thing they heard before the girls closed the door behind them.

Stiles threw an arm across Derek's waist and chuckled into the damp skin.

"Hmm, what's so funny?" The lycan asked, and Stiles giggled again.

"Wait 'til Scott and Jackson find out that they're getting laid because their girlfriends were so turned on by watching us fuck."

Derek barked a soft laugh. "You think the girls'll tell them?"

"Oh, no, probably not," Stiles muttered nonchalantly. "But I definitely will."

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><p><strong>Phew. Sign me up for tickets to that show, plz. <strong>

**How come Derek picked Stiles up from school if Stiles drove his own car? How did the girls get into Stiles' house after school, and why didn't Derek notice their cars parked out front? THESE THINGS DON'T MATTER! All that's important is the porn. Pornity, porny porn porn p0rn.**

**I NEED SUGGESTIONS, FOLKS! I'm running low on ideas, so I ask: what kinks are you guys interested in seeing, if any? R/R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**YOU ALL ARE FILTHY-MINDED PEOPLE. Just like me. I love it. I appreciate all of your suggestions soooo much! Feel free to leave any more. There's so many more ideas I want to explore and write, so it looks like you guys are stuck with this story for a long time. ;)**

**This was intended to include more of the Red Riding Hood idea as suggested by the darling Dragonryder94, who has been nothing but kind to me. I'm sososo sorry I couldn't get more than a nod of RRH in, this one wrote itself, I swear... **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a future hotel room in hell. I'm pretty sure such naughty thoughts are frowned upon up-above. **

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><p>The fragile autumn leaves crunched under his worn sneakers as Stiles took tentative steps through the darkness. He could feel eyes on him, watching his every move, but the stars didn't offer enough light for him to get a good look around. A brisk wind blew through the woods, making the trees creak eerily around him; he tugged his sweatshirt closer around his body, flipping the red hood up over his head as he rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands together.<p>

"It's fucking freezing out here, and I'm alone. Great _fucking_ idea, Derek," he mumbled, watching his words turn into little puffs of white in the chilled air.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a clawed hand wrapped around his waist from behind, warm breath and sharp teeth on his neck. He shivered when a low voice echoed in his ear.

"_You're not alone_."

The elongated teeth were scraping down the exact path of his jugular, and Stiles couldn't manage more than short gasps and pants, all of which froze on the night air. And then the warmth of the other body was gone without so much as a whisper of noise.

Stiles spun on his heel. There was nothing behind him. Not a sign that anything _had_ been. His heart beat a little bit faster and his palms began to sweat.

This shit was creepy.

He could feel the eyes on him again as he squinted up at the few stars he could see through the canopy of trees above. A branch behind him rustled and he spun around again. A low, predatory chuckle reverberated throughout the forest, bouncing off tree trunks and surrounding him. His head jerked all around, his eyes wide and straining against the blackness, trying desperately to locate the source of the ghostly laughter. Trying to focus on anything, really.

"D-Derek?" He breathed, the name turning to smoke and disappearing around him.

The laughter stopped. The woods were still for a moment. Not a crackling leaf, not a breath of wind, no crickets' chirp. Absolute silence. And then—

"_Run_."

Stiles' feet had never carried him faster. He dodged low branches, hurtled over roots and logs, a rabbit sprinting for its life from the unbeatable predator. It seemed the trees were alive around him, breathing and panting with him, screaming at him to move faster, converging in on him. He urged his legs faster, the pounding blood in his ears the only thing he could hear. He didn't dare to look back, too afraid of what he might see following him. His vision tunneled ahead and it was all he could do to keep going, desperately clinging to the adrenaline coursing in his every cell as his only source of energy. His lungs were on fire, the icy air doing nothing to put out the blaze, and still he ran.

He ducked behind the trunk of a tree, cursing the full moon for spotlighting him in the darkness, and wheezed, doubled over, until a loud _crack_ echoed out. He straightened up, frozen against the tree, and tried to keep his eyes open. He waited with bated breath.

After all, there was only so much you could do when the town's most feared creature was hunting you.

Another _crack_ sounded, and Stiles jumped. He slowly inched his way closer to the edge of the trunk, taking a breath before peeking around to look out into the woods. There was nothing there; the trees were no longer crying out to him, the crickets were chirping away. The forest was the same as it'd ever been. Just an average autumn night.

Stiles closed his eyes in relief, pulling his head back around to lean fully against the trunk of the tree again. He smiled lightly, allowing himself to breathe regularly.

And then he opened his eyes and screamed.

Derek grinned in his face. His teeth protruded intimidatingly and Stiles found himself staring as they glowed in the moonlight. The wolf placed his clawed hands on either side of Stiles' head and pressed their bodies flush together, trapping the smaller man against the bark. He leaned in close, dragging his nose up the still-trembling kid's neck and across his jaw, breathing deeply.

"Caughtcha."

Stiles gasped, still trying to catch his breath, and curled his hands around Derek's hips to pull them closer. He leaned his head back against the tree, exposing his throat to the lycan.

"Fuck you. A hunting fantasy? Jesus Christ. _Fuck you,_ that was terrifying."

Derek smiled against his skin, licking a strip across his collarbone that immediately raised goosebumps in the biting air. "Oh, we haven't gotten to the fantasy part just yet."

The wolf pulled his head back, staring at the shivering kid with that icy blue gaze, his brow bulging and curved, all of his features sharply defined and distinctly animalistic. Stiles wondered if maybe he should be worried. What if Derek were to lose himself in the wolf?

…Would this be considered bestiality?

And really, fuck it. Stiles didn't care. He shivered when the taller man slipped his cold hands under the red sweatshirt to rest against the taut stomach underneath, and Stiles lifted his head to meet the pale blue eyes. He nodded absently, his voice scratchy and low when he responded.

"Well go on, then. Finish what you started."

Derek was eager to oblige. He'd never had his prey tell him to continue before.

He grasped the back of Stiles' neck, clawed thumb wrapped around to trace the protruding Adam's Apple, and he couldn't help but love the way it bobbed under his touch. The jolt that ran up his fingers was electric, pulsing with the need to bury his nails into the tender flesh, watch the blood spill over and paint his hand crimson.

It would be so easy, after all.

But no. He wanted Stiles sinking onto his cock, moaning with pleasure. Definitely not sinking to the ground, bleeding to death. Big difference there.

He moved his palm from Stiles' neck, skirting up the skin to curve around the kid's chin and hold tightly. Their lips met with fervor, tongues dancing and razor-sharp teeth pulling; Derek slipped both hands down to cup the smaller boy's ass and lift while Stiles simultaneously jumped. The wolf pushed him back against the tree harder, leaving the boy suspended between the trunk and his mate, legs secured vice-like around Derek's middle, as though he'd had any intention of leaving. Stiles' arms wound around the werewolf's neck; the lycan raised him higher to lap at his collarbone while the kid pushed his jean-clad hard-on into Derek's stomach and moaned.

Derek knew they had all night—the full moon wasn't going anywhere for a while—but the frenzy, the desperation, was swallowing them both and Derek wanted these clothes off _five minutes ago_, damnit.

He pressed his mate to the tree harder still, effectively pinning him with his hips, and pulled one hand away to hastily undo his own jeans and yank them down just enough to expose his cock to the cool air. Gritting his teeth—well, fangs, really—he did the same to Stiles' jeans, pulling them down over the curve of his ass to stop mid-thigh, and held the boy's half-lidded gaze as he sucked his own fingers into his mouth.

"D-dude," Stiles breathed, word freezing in the little space between them, "claws away."

And Derek grinned, holding the slippery digits up and making a show of retracting the sharp nails. He trailed his hand down the other's body with a practiced ease, sliding his fingers into his mate's body, as expertly as if it were his own. He knew the exact angle at which to hit Stiles' prostate, and how to drag his index finger across it, tantalizingly enough to reduce the kid to a whimpering mess in his arms.

He watched the muscles under Stiles' closed eyes twitch, watched his mouth fall slack. Derek licked at his bottom lip before claiming his mouth to swallow the kid's protest when he pulled his fingers out. The wolf stroked his own cock lazily before replacing his hand under the smaller man's ass. He lifted him again, spine tingling as his mate curled his fingers into the dark hair on the back of his head, before easing him back down on his length. He waited, breathing heavily into the boy's damp shoulder.

Stiles whined against the burning stretch, back arching into the tree, and he lifted his hips impatiently. And that was all the invitation Derek needed. He wrapped one hand around Stiles' waist, circling his thumb over the skin.

"Hold on," he muttered, feeling the arms around his neck constrict and dull nails scratch up his back, and then he moved. He dropped his hips at the same time he lifted Stiles up, and brought the kid back down again, earning a moan from Stiles that echoed his own when their hips crashed together. And they built a rhythm.

The air was still frigid and the friction from their jeans was a just a little too much, but Stiles was moaning his name over and over into his ear and Derek wanted to never stop. He raised his mate up just slightly so the kid's chin rested against his forehead, and buried his face into the hollow of Stiles' neck. He forced his eyes to stay open enough to watch the bead of sweat trail down the pale column and pool just above his collarbone.

Stiles' skin was pale in the moonlight, deathly so, and Derek was stunned by how ethereal he appeared. His eyes and hair were strikingly dark against the glowing pallor. The kid looked perfect under the full moon, and hey, he didn't seem to be complaining about the effects it had on Derek, either.

Their bodies rocked together easily, in perfect synchronization. Stiles' back scraped against the rough bark, his mouth was slack and his face held an expression that almost resembled pain, but Derek knew better. The wolf watched him with his teeth bared, their proximity so close that his eyes nearly crossed in doing so, and took in every detail, studied each tiny facial contortion. He drummed a pattern-less beat into the boy's hip. He wasn't entirely sure how the world was going on as usual around them, when all he could think was a steady mantra of _mine._

And then Stiles opened his eyes and held his gaze.

Derek could feel it coming up on him, could sense temporary bliss coaxing him lovingly, and he closed his hand around Stiles' length to pump in time with his frantic thrusts. The kid's breath hitched with each snap of the wolf's hips, but his eyes never left the bright blue intensity of Derek's.

And then he froze, gritting his teeth before moaning Derek's name one last, broken time, and painted the older's fist in milky white strings. Derek pressed their lips together sloppily, crying out into Stiles' mouth, and barely had time for one more thrust before he was coming, clutching the kid's hip so hard he knew he'd have to apologize for the bruise he'd leave.

They breathed against one another, sweating under their clothes despite the biting chill. Stiles choked out a laugh, grinning down at Derek's raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. You _definitely_ caught me."

And Derek barked a laugh, features transforming back into their hominine normality. He didn't even scowl when Stiles leaned in to press a quick peck to his nose. The kid unwound his legs from the taller man's waist and dropped to the ground, knees wobbling at the reintroduction of gravity, before gingerly zipping his jeans back up while Derek did the same. Stiles offered up a small smile and turned to place his hands against the tree, back to Derek.

"Hey, does my back look red?"

Derek carefully lifted the sweatshirt, and even in the dull light, he could see the angry red scratches littering his mate's back. He growled noncommittally and ran his finger down the spine, chuckling when Stiles shivered.

Stiles felt lips brush his shoulder before he was turned around again, Derek's hands heavy on his hips.

"Little bit," the wolf told him huskily, a tiny grin on his face, "sorry."

"Mmm, don't be." Stiles pressed a kiss to his mate's clothed chest, fingers playing idly with the hem of his shirt. "That was…thrilling. Knowing it was only you, that I was safe, but still feeling the fear. It was fun."

Derek smiled above him, kissing his temple. "Adrenaline junkie, now, huh?"

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe," he said, a sly grin gracing his lips. "All I know is that this gave me an idea for my next turn."

And Derek leaned close while Stiles told him the plan.

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><p><strong>Well. With an ending like that, I should tell you - the next chapter will have warnings. You have been...prewarned?<strong>

**PS, If you want to see the cutest video of Posey in the world, search on youtube: "baby says Tyler Posey" - from TroixTV. No, seriously. Just do it. I smiled for hours. **

**I get more excited when I get a review than I do when THoech tweets pictures of the VMAs. So. :)**


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